


[now the ears of my ears awake, the eyes of my eyes are opened]

by ephemerall



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Multi, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-18
Updated: 2007-05-18
Packaged: 2017-11-01 13:11:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemerall/pseuds/ephemerall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They stay in Wyoming for four days after everything. The first day Sam stands in the shower, water as hot as it will go, washing dirt and grime and blood from his skin. His skin is red and raw after an hour and the water is only lukewarm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[now the ears of my ears awake, the eyes of my eyes are opened]

 

  
They stay in Wyoming for four days after everything. The first day Sam stands in the shower, water as hot as it will go, washing dirt and grime and blood from his skin. His skin is red and raw after an hour and the water is only lukewarm. He stands with his head down, water running in his eyes, and doesn’t even move when Dean draws the curtain back. He starts shivering violently, not really from the cool air, teeth chattering. Dean steps in behind him, fully clothed, reaches around to turn off the water and pulls Sam back against his chest.  
  
“Sammy,” he says softly, nose pressed to Sam’s neck. “Sammy,” he says again. “Sammy,” soft and hypnotic, and Sam breaks down because this was too close and one year just _isn’t long enough_.  
  
They sleep pressed so close there’s barely space between them. Dean’s hand is splayed over Sam’s heart, feeling the steady _thrumthrumthrum_ under his palm, his fingers. He breathes in the smell of Sam’s clean skin, subtle soap smell and sweat, something that’s only Sam. Dean’s other hand moves against the wound against Sam’s spine, the miraculously closed skin, scarring already, thick and pink. He listens to Sam’s breath even and steady while he pretends to sleep, but Dean knows he’s awake, staring at the dirty wall of the motel room, blinking and unseeing of almost everything, stuck in the mindless repetition of _too close, too close, too close_.  
  
---  
  
  
It starts raining by the second day. The clouds hang thick and black, and the rain comes down in thick unyielding sheets, torrents of water coming down over the window panes, and filling the gutter to bursting. Dean stands by the window in the jeans he’s been wearing for days because there’s been no time to do laundry, and Sam comes to stand close by. Dean nods at the clouds. “Think that’s anything to do with the demon’s army?”  
  
“No,” Sam answers, voice flat, toneless.  
  
“Well, it looks like it could be.”  
  
“It’s not,” Sam says and Dean looks at him, silent _yeah? how do you know?_ “I just know, Dean. I can… I can feel that kind of thing.”  
  
When they sleep that night, Dean knows that Sam feels different. The demon’s words play in his head _how do you know what you brought back is 100% Sammy?_ He presses his face to the curve of Sam’s neck and kisses softly, and Sam’s skin feels cooler somehow. The differences are subtle – except when Sam killed Jake, stood there with empty, cold eyes and didn’t blink or flinch for taking a human life – but it’s still Sam.  
  
He wakes up in the middle of the night and finds Sam standing by the window, bottle of gin in hand. “Sammy,” Dean says, sitting up, rubbing sleep from his eyes.  
  
“What’s dead should stay dead,” he says, and Dean stops breathing for a moment while Sam drinks more from the bottle. He turns his head halfway to glance at Dean. “You know that. Why did you… How could you…”  
  
“I did what I had to,” Dean says, coming closer to stand just behind Sam. “Sammy… what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t lose you.”  
  
Dean jumps when Sam hurls the bottle across the room and it shatters against the wall, raining pieces of glass and gin all over the wallpaper and carpet. “But I’m just supposed to lose you?!” He screams. He moves forward quickly, too damn quickly, and has Dean by the shirt. “You stupid son of a bitch,” he says, voice hoarse, eyes shining in the dark with tears.  
  
“Sam,” Dean says, voice choked, “I had to.”  
  
“A year isn’t long enough,” Sam says shaking Dean hard. “It’s not long enough, Dean!”  
  
“I couldn’t let you die,” and Sam hears the _because I love you too much_ in his words. He clenches his fists in Dean’s shirt, pressing him back against the wall – and Dean doesn’t remember getting there – and Sam presses his forehead to Dean’s. Dean can smell the alcohol on his breath, warm and bitter-sweet.  
  
Dean fists his hands in Sam’s hair and drags his mouth down, kissing him hard, bruising lips with teeth, Sam grasping his shirt tight and pulling him so close. “What am I supposed to do?” Sam breathes against his mouth.  
  
Dean doesn’t answer, just walks them to the bed. He strips Sam out of his clothes, kisses the bruises over his body, swipes his tongue across the newly formed scar down Sam’s spine. Sam tears at Dean’s clothes desperately, pulls Dean down on top of him, and whispers again “What am I supposed to do?”  
  
It’s not perfect, but he fucks into Sam roughly, pulling gasps and his name from Sam’s mouth, a constant litany of _Dean, Dean, Dean_ and _please, oh god, please_. He takes Sam’s cock in his hand, feels the blood pulse warm and real, strokes hard and fast until Sam’s come paints his hand in thick, milky ropes; he strokes and kisses Sam through it, feeling him tighten all around him. Sam digs his fingers into Dean’s shoulders when Dean comes, arching his neck so Dean can kiss and bite.  
  
They breathe and come down, and the room smells like sweat and sex and come, a distant smell of gin from the other side of the room. “I can’t lose you,” Sam whispers, rolling them to their sides, and sliding down to rest his head under Dean’s chin as if he were five and could still fit like this.  
  
“We’ll figure it out,” Dean whispers, stroking Sam’s hair, feeling Sam’s heart hammer in time with his against his chest.  
  
---  
  
  
  
  



End file.
